Cancer medicines stop working because the clever sickness changes its disguise, ya, like the monsoon clouds shifting on the hills. I don’t think it’s always sure to come, but we must look closely from the very start. I see now that by not testing the seed of my own illness at diagnosis, we were guessing at the weed without knowing its roots. My regret is a steep climb I made for my family, one that a clearer map might have eased.
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